Pointless

The latest topic among my sixty-plus friends is whether or not to downsize. They no longer have the stamina to maintain large homes. Even Mighty Marc confessed to being worn out the other day, after four hours of weeding, fertilizing and lawn mowing in 95 degree summer heat. When he plopped down on the couch it concerned me because he has more energy than most men twenty years younger. From the moment he opens his eyes and leaps from bed, the man doesn’t sit until dinner time. When I see him climbing ladders, chopping down 20 foot high branches from a 200 year old oak, digging ditches to plant bushes, staining our three large decks, power washing the house, and dragging brush and mountains of debris to the dump, I view him as young, and virile, and that makes me feel young, too, so it’s hard to believe that we could have reached downsizing age.
Yesterday my cousin Joanie told me she and her husband are looking for a condo because their large Florida home has become too much for them to handle. “Who am I kidding?” she added. “It’s my husband, not me, who does everything.”
I thought about what she said and realized I am a far better wife than she is. I have always been involved and helpful in all that Mighty Marc does around the house. It became clear early in our marriage that if we were to have a close relationship we would have to work side by side, so I do what I do best: I point. I point to a piece of furniture; Mighty Marc moves it. I point to a picture; he hangs it. I point to a bush; he trims it. I point to a bug; he kills it.
There was a time when I could spent the better part of each day actively pointing out chores for him to do. Not anymore. Lately, my pointer finger is nearly always tired. I fear age is catching up with her.
When we decided to renovate and expand our home several years ago, friends looked at us with raised eyebrows. They tried to persuade us to join them, instead, in their joyful lifestyle in a senior retirement village. “You won’t have to plant grass, mow your lawn, or paint the exterior of your home,” they said. “It’s all taken care of for you.”
“But, I love doing all those things,” said Mighty Marc. I was thrilled because the thought of moving from our home to a place where my pointer finger was in danger of becoming obsolete, was too painful to think about.
I have visited quite a number of senior retirement villages. They’re all beautiful and offer a wide variety of activities geared at keeping aging brains and muscles active. Facilities include a club house, swimming pools, gym, and activities such as Dominos, bridge, Mahjong, pocket billiards, golf, and chorus. It all sounds wonderful – but for one thing: I am, for the most part, a loner. In fact, I could even be classified as anti-social.
To meet me you would never guess I am someone who nearly always prefers being alone to being with people. I know how to smile broadly, and laugh easily. I can tell a joke and have no trouble keeping a conversation flowing. I can even make you feel comfortable enough to invite me to lunch.
The problem is I would rather be alone, working on projects that involve only me and my thoughts. If I lived in a senior retirement village there is no doubt that I would suffocate from having too many people in my life. I would be afraid that when I pull my car out of the driveway someone might wave and maybe even saunter over and want to chat before I had a chance to floor it and escape.
Heaven forbid.
My friends have explained that I would not be compelled to join in anything I didn’t want to, but they have also pointed out neighbors who have refused their repeated invitations and as a result are now referred to as neighborhood bitches.
I’m not sure what we’ll do. The thought of showing the house to prospective buyers, sorting through a lifetime of belongings, and separating treasures from trash, makes me sick. Mighty Marc says we have plenty of time to decide which only makes me wonder if, perhaps, he really is much younger than I am because I know, with certainty, that we should be making this decision now.